


Cake

by chilly_flame



Series: Perk [2]
Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: AU, F/F, Ficathon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-28
Updated: 2013-11-28
Packaged: 2018-01-02 20:23:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1061223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chilly_flame/pseuds/chilly_flame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A follow-up to "Perk," in which Andy gets a book deal. And other more interesting things happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cake

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s the requested follow up to Perk, my AU from the Quick and Dirty Comment Fic-a-Thon. Thanks to everyone who enjoyed the first story, and to Xander for edits and again, the title.

 

\---

Miranda’s home is supremely clean, which is a problem.

She has nothing at all to do now except wait.

The housekeeper was here earlier, and Miranda had been very clear: the place had to be spotless when she finished. And it had been.

That doesn’t keep Miranda from continuing to dust bookshelves well above her eyeline; from vacuuming the bedroom a second time; from sweeping the wood floors of the halls and entryway obsessively.

She wishes for something to do to distract her from this almost painful anticipation, but nothing works. Writing is out of the question. She won’t use the phone in case Andy needs to speak to her and through some call-waiting fluke can’t get through. She can’t focus for long enough to read for more than sixty seconds at a time, so there’s nothing to do but wait and think about everything that’s happened over the last month.

Miracle of miracles, she has finished her novel. Leslie was thrilled, and sent back a handful of notes for Miranda to address. Five days a week, Miranda visits her Chelsea Starbucks whether Andy is there or not. More than half the time, she is lucky, and the other times, she actually gets work done.

She’s also helped Andy navigate the terrifying waters of publication, legal representation and editors. Andy is no dope, but she is young and naïve, so Miranda’s lawyer has a new client. That said, Miranda pays his fees, at least for now. Miranda can afford it, and she has willfully neglected to tell Andy that he gets paid $600 dollars an hour. If Andy knew his price, they’d have some kind of talk about it, which Miranda would prefer to avoid. Miranda credits Andy’s presence in her life for her ability to finish her book, so they are even in Miranda’s eyes.

Most importantly, she’s spent a good deal of these past four weeks making out with Andy, yet indulging in no actual sex. Unless one counts dry humping in a dark, rainy alley in a not-quite-gentrified section of Williamsburg as sex, which she does not. Once Miranda decided, after their first kiss, that she was going to romance Andy, that meant they had to wait to make love. How long they had to wait, she had yet to decide. Andy, on the other hand, had no idea what the hold up was. She’d asked Miranda countless questions about her reticence.

“Are you afraid?” “Are you waiting for some STD test to come back?” And her favorite, “Have you never done it with a woman? It’s not that hard. I promise, I’ll tell you exactly what I want.” Miranda had barely been able to resist Andy after that, but she’d managed. In fact, she has been with plenty of women over the years, and men too, but Andy seems different. Is different. She is someone Miranda wants to love and keep as long as she can.

But for her own sanity, she wants to be sure she is in love with a person, and not a construct of her imagination. It’s one of the perils of her profession, living so much in her mind. She’s been in enough situations over the years to know that sometimes what she believes to be true about a lover is not so. In Andy’s case Miranda has fallen so hard and so fast that she wants to get to know the real Andy before she is in too deep.

So, they date. They have dinner, and lunch, and drink lots and lots of coffee. Miranda has been to the movies more in the last month than she has in a year. They also go out dancing, which Miranda enjoys a great deal. Despite Miranda’s reticence (“I don’t dance. Don’t ask me,” she’d quipped) she had felt comfortable their very first time out at a gay club. The dance floor is the first place Miranda has ever kissed a woman in a public place. They’d gotten a few admiring glances that night, looks of approval and envy that reminded Miranda of her remarkable luck.

Over these four weeks, Miranda has discovered that Andy is far from the open book that she expected. She should have realized, considering the dark, sometimes grim nature of her writing, that Andy is not a simple girl. She is sunny, and sweet and thoughtful; she is also insecure, irritable and quick to anger. These imperfections only attract Miranda more. She could not thrive with someone who always bent to her will. She needs an equal, a sparring partner who will spark her excitement. Andy more than holds her own, so Miranda waits out Andy’s occasional sour moods until she smiles, and the sun comes out again.

The best thing about Andy is that she is anything but boring. She is exactly what Miranda wants. Amazingly, Miranda thinks Andy feels the same way. And tonight, they want the very same thing, which is to get naked and do it.  _Make love_ , Miranda always says, which makes Andy smirk. When they were in that alley last week, Miranda had said, “I don’t want our first time making love to be on a filthy street corner,” as Andy raked sharp teeth down the side of her neck.

“How long are you going to make me wait?” Andy had begged. “I’m going crazy here.” To prove her point, she’d rubbed up against Miranda’s hip, humming. She’d smelled incredible, hot and fragrant as a rose. Rainwater had streamed down from the building roof in a fall of water only inches from their bodies, but it wasn’t much of a shield from the public eye. When Andy’s hand had stolen up inside Miranda’s shirt, finding her breast, Miranda had yanked away.

“Not here,” Miranda had said.

“Then when?” Andy whined. “If you leave me like this, you know what I’m going to do when I get inside my apartment, don’t you?”

Miranda reared back out of self preservation. “Don’t--” she’d said, but Andy hadn’t listened.

“I’m barely going to get in the door. You make me so hot, Miranda, I’m already wet down my thighs. Don’t you want to feel it?”

Miranda had trembled in her arms.

“I’m going to skip the warm up—just get off as soon as I get to the bed, and all the time I’ll be wishing you were there, _doing it to me_. Then I’ll take my time, thinking about you. I keep my vibrator right next to the bed, you know. I’ll make the second time last, because once isn’t going to be enough to satisfy me. Not after tonight.” She’d kissed Miranda slowly, teeth biting down on her lower lip. “Don’t you want to come in with me? Please?”

Miranda was already close. The word “yes” was on the tip of her tongue when a car drove by and splashed a wave of dirty rainwater into the alley. It spattered them both, but Andy got the brunt of it. The shock of it woke Miranda to where they were, and what they were doing. Andy had seen the “no” on Miranda’s face before she said it, so she backed off. “I almost had you,” she’d said, disappointed.

“Next week,” Miranda had replied. “I want to make it perfect.”

Andy stroked her cheek. “I don’t need perfect, Miranda. Honestly.”

Miranda had seen Andy only once since then; Andy worked two days of full shifts, while Miranda had shopped and cooked and cleaned like a crazy person. She’d bought far too many flowers, and spent two hours browsing and buying in her favorite sex shop. She hadn’t gone wild, but she wanted to have some new “items” to play with in case Andy was game. Which she would be, Miranda was sure.

Now, there are rose petals strewn all over the stairs to the bedroom, which is filled with unlit candles. Andy will call before she arrives, and Miranda will set out the dinner she’s been making all day. They’ll eat at the dining table that’s set with Miranda’s best china and silver, and afterward, they’ll make love in Miranda’s bed on clean, soft sheets. It’s going to be an unforgettable weekend.

Miranda gets lost in a slow-motion fantasy of Andy stretching out on her bed, her long, lean limbs illuminated by a dozen candles, and doesn’t notice how quickly the time passes. When her doorbell rings, Miranda is startled. She checks her phone; Andy has not called. She always calls first. Miranda curses and hopes it’s not someone unexpected.

Luckily, it’s not. Andy is there on the doorstep, holding an umbrella in one hand and cradling her cat in the other. Miranda laughs. It’s pouring, so Miranda opens the door quickly and ushers them in.

“Hello,” Miranda says, taking Andy’s soaked backpack from her shoulders.

“Hi. You remember Charles.” Charles the cat blinks, shaking the rain from his whiskers. Charles is never called Charlie, and he rules Andy’s roost, which means he will also rule Miranda’s. Miranda has set out a litter box, cat food and water despite the fact that she is a tried and true dog person. Charles is part of the Andy package, so she’ll live.

“Hello, Charles,” Miranda says, reaching out to scratch his damp ears. “Make yourself at home.” Andy drops him to the floor and he darts away to investigate this new place that hopefully, he’ll be spending a great deal of time in.

“May I take your coat?” Miranda says, eyeing the slick blue trench Andy’s wearing.

“You may, absolutely.” Andy unbuttons the thing and opens it.

Miranda gapes, and salivates. Andy is wearing a shimmering silver bra and panties set, and it’s stunningly beautiful even though she happens to be sporting a pair of military boots on her feet.

“Like them? I bought them for you,” Andy says, throwing her arms around Miranda’s neck. “We don’t have to wait anymore, do we?”

Miranda blinks and tries to recall her plan. “I have dinner read--”

“Fuck dinner,” Andy says, and then they’re kissing, while Andy wrestles with Miranda’s blouse, then her belt, then her trousers. Somehow Andy manages to toe off her boots while she nibbles Miranda’s collarbone, then dips her hands into Miranda’s underwear to grab her ass. “I want this, I want you, right now, Miranda. I’ve wanted this since my first taste of you. Just say yes, please, please--”

Miranda says, “Yes,” mindless with desire, pulling Andy down to the dark wood floor, ignoring how cold and hard it is. Andy is so soft and warm above her that it doesn’t matter, especially when Andy tears her silver bra and falls on Miranda, breathless. Andy’s hand slips beneath Miranda’s underwear and finds her wet, so wet that she’s crying out.

“Jesus, oh, Miranda, Miranda.” Andy is everywhere on her, mouth at her breasts, her belly, pulling her legs apart and settling between them. “Can’t wait, oh my god,” she pants, “you’re amazing, I can’t wait anymore,” and she slides inside Miranda with two fingers as Miranda stares at her, mouth open and already about to come. “Do it, do it, oh my god, I can’t believe it--” And Miranda comes, stunned by the force and speed of her climax, because Andy’s just gotten here, and she had a plan of seduction all set, didn’t she? Then Andy’s panties are off and flying across the room as she straddles Miranda’s hips, grinding down as she kisses her. Miranda gets her hand between them, and just as if she never wanted to wait in the first place, dives in without hesitation. Andy arches forward, hands at either side of Miranda’s head, riding her like a pro. “Fuck, I’ve ached for this, Miranda,” and then she comes too, soaking Miranda’s hand and shivering for long moments. “Ohh,” she sighs, jerking as aftershocks seize Miranda’s fingers repeatedly. “Oh, good, good,” she mumbles, and slumps down on top of Miranda.

They lie there, and Miranda thinks she can hear Andy’s heart beating, but it might be her own too. She is ecstatically happy, and she slides her hands up Andy’s back, loving the feel of her skin. She smells, as she did last week, of flowers, but this time she gets more of Andy, the scent of sex and sweat and woman. She is real and whole, not the ethereal Andy of her fantasies, but a marvelous human being that Miranda loves.

Finally, Andy gets up on one elbow and gazes down. “Hey,” she says. “So, I really wanted to do that.”

Miranda chuckles. “I did too.”

“I know you had plans to make it perfect, but I couldn’t wait long enough for perfect. Hope you’re not disappointed.”

Licking her lips, Miranda slides her hand up Andy’s belly, stopping once to rub her thumb over one nipple. She puts her fingers to her mouth and licks, inhaling the dark scent with contentment. “I don’t believe I am,” she says, her chest expanding with a deep breath. “You’re delicious. And that was suspiciously close to perfect, if you ask me.”

“I think so too.” Andy leans down and kisses her, the urgency ebbing but still just beneath the surface. “Can you tell me now why you wanted to wait?”

Staring up into Andy’s open, wondrous eyes, Miranda can hardly recall the answer. But she owes her the truth. “I wanted to make sure you were real,” she says, touching Andy’s cheek with the backs of her fingers.

Seconds pass, and Miranda watches her puzzling it out. “That I’m me, and not Daphne, you mean,” Andy says.

“Yes,” replies Miranda.

“I get it,” Andy says, and Miranda sighs in relief. “You should have told me. I might have eased up a little.” She laughs. “I thought you were trying to make me masturbate to death or something.”

That draws a huge laugh from Miranda. “No. But what a way to go.”

“Yep. I came close a few times, I think. Especially that last time.”

Miranda digs her short nails into Andy’s ass. “Did you do what you said you’d do?”

Andy’s smile is seductive; some of the urgency is returning. “I might have.”

“Maybe you could show me a little of what you did. With props, if you’re open to that.”

Andy’s face falls. “God, I didn’t bring anything except clothes. I left my other stuff at home.”

Miranda sits up, and Andy helps her till they’re wrapped in each other’s arms, legs entwined. “Don’t worry about that. I’ve been planning this for days. I’m prepared.”

Andy’s glee is enormous. “Let’s go then!”

She’s up and halfway up the steps before she looks down at the rose petals. “My gosh, you really did plan this out.” Glancing at Miranda, her face melts into affection. “I love it. I love you, Miranda,” she says, climbing down the steps, naked as the day she was born. “I love everything I know of you, and I can’t wait to learn more. Just as you’ll come to know me. We have lots of time.”

Miranda embraces her, pulling her close as their knees bump together. It feels strange to be naked in her entryway, and she’s a little chilly too. Suddenly something brushes against her shins, and she yelps. Charles stares up at them curiously, and Miranda immediately wants to cover up.

“It’s a cat, Miranda,” Andy says slyly. ”Think of it this way: he’s naked too.”

Miranda looks up at her and quips, “I’m not sure that makes me feel any better, but all right.” In the kitchen, she hears the timer go off. “I have to look in on something.”

“What is it?”

“There’s a cake in the oven. Once it cools I’ll ice it.”

“Cake? Is it chocolate?”

“Yes. And I have boeuf bourguignon on the stove. I have to check on it.”

Andy claps her hands together and follows Miranda into the kitchen. “My god, I have hit the jackpot.”

\---

In the morning, Miranda strokes a gentle finger along Andy’s shoulder blade, delicate in the diffuse sunlight streaming in. Her memories of the night are decadent, and as Miranda hoped, unforgettable. They skipped the china and silver altogether, opting instead for paper plates that they carried upstairs to the bedroom. Wine was sipped from short tumblers, less apt to spill as they ate supper in bed. Miranda got a chance to watch what Andy had been up to every night for the past month, and continuously cursed herself for waiting. The vibrator she’d bought came very much in handy. Her eyes slip closed as she remembers licking Andy as she pushed the toy inside her, as Andy held her breasts in both hands, moaning and writhing in pleasure. They might have to do that again, and soon. It had given Miranda almost as much pleasure as Andy, she was certain, because it only took a moment for her to come at Andy’s touch.

Mm, yes, Miranda thinks. They’d made love well into the night, stopping only to ice the cake at some point after midnight. Most of the cake is left on the nightstand, and their empty plates are probably at the foot of the bed, maybe on the floor. She hopes Charles has not found any leftovers. A trip to the vet is not on Miranda’s roster for the day.

Instead, she wants more of this, no matter how her muscles complain. She touches herself, and although she is sticky, she is wet and ready as ever.

“No fair,” Andy murmurs, glancing over her shoulder at Miranda’s hand. “I don’t want to miss anything.”

Miranda smiles. “You haven’t. Yet.”

Andy turns over, eyes wide and far more awake than Miranda feels. “Go for it.”

“You want me to?”

“I did it for you. My turn to watch.”

Miranda is slightly unnerved, but she goes ahead anyway, rolling onto her back. Andy gets up on her knees, moving between Miranda’s parted legs. She feels exposed, but Andy is breathing hard, hands resting on Miranda’s thighs. “God, you are gorgeous,” she sighs. “This is the best morning ever.”

So Miranda touches herself, biting her lip when she finds the right spots, arching and putting on the best show she can. She’s startled when she hears a whirr, opening her eyes to find Andy holding the other new vibe, this one curved the way Miranda likes. “Here we go,” she says, reaching down and finding Miranda open and dripping. She slips the toy inside her, getting down close and leaning in. Her tongue is hot as she licks between Miranda’s fingers.

“Oh, f-fuck,” Miranda groans. There’s no way she can last; she goes off like a flash, pushing against Andy’s mouth and hands, completely at her mercy.

Andy crawls up her body, kissing her furiously until Miranda reaches up and rubs fast between her legs until she comes with a shout. Miranda has already learned that once she comes, Andy doesn’t like to wait to follow her. The opposite is true for Miranda, who loves to make it last whenever she can. She imagines they will get to do a lot of both in the future, going fast and waiting. As often as possible.

After their morning fix, they lie together and talk. Andy shows her the receipt from her first advance, deposited in the bank right before she showed up at Miranda’s. “You went to the bank dressed in a trenchcoat and underwear?”

Andy laughs. “I had to. The bank was going to close, and I wasn’t going to run around with the check in my purse.”

“What did you do with Charles?”

“He went in the backpack. He was not a happy camper.”

“I expect not.” She opens her mouth as Andy feeds her a bite of cake from the plate resting on her stomach. “Congratulations, by the way. It’s an amazing feeling to be paid to do what you love most.”

“I know. I’m still kind of giddy about it. Not to mention freaked out. I hope it’s not a fluke. What if this book is the only one I have in me?”

Miranda rolls her eyes. “It’s not. I know talent, darling, and you have it. Confidence will come in time. For now I’ll have enough for the both of us.”

Andy takes a bite of cake. “I’ll trust you for now, I guess. I never—this whole thing has been a dream, Miranda. All of it. Especially last night. And this morning.”

“And tonight, and tomorrow, and the next day too,” Miranda says, throwing a leg over Andy’s. “For as long as I can make it that way for you, I will.”

Andy leans over and kisses her. They both taste like chocolate. As her blood sings with sugar and lust and love, Miranda takes the plate from Andy and places it on the bedside table. “More of that later,” she murmurs as she nibbles Andy’s ear.

“More of you now,” Andy says in agreement, and their bodies twine together once more.

~the end


End file.
